


I'll Be Waiting

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: And he does not like it, Attempted Disassociation, Crowley descends into Hell, Hell is the WORST, Ineffable Inferno BTF Contest, IneffableInfernoBTFContest, Lucifer is bound to hell, M/M, Metaphysics of Hell, Or at least i keep getting told that's the plot, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rated E for Fucking Your Boss, Sorry i could not help myself for a single second, There's like a lot of worldbuilding here, and that's the plot, ineffable inferno, no i'm not sorry, self harm/self destructive sex, to be fair no one likes Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24972259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: It was halfway through the 14th century and a leap year. It was always a leap year when Crowley visited. He came on February 29th, on a day that didn’t quite exist, because he needed these weaknesses of his to never exist. If he was going to give in, to givehimthe very thing he wanted, then it needed to be on a day that didn’t count.He didn’t descend to the Pit every leap year, only on the years where the waiting had become unbearable, the years that seemed like nothing mattered at all, so why not.Crowley visits Hell and goes down, down, down all the way to the deepest Pit where Lucifer resides. Earth isn't much better than Hell right now and everything's out of his control. But this isn't, he can choose to hurt himself this way, and he knows exactly what to expect.
Relationships: Crowley/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	I'll Be Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> For [Nixarim's](https://www.instagram.com/nixarim/?hl=en) Ineffable Inferno BTF Contest. 
> 
> I realized most of the way through, and like yesterday, that I may not have stayed within the requirements for the challenge (as it's more based on the Blame Me comic rather than Before the Falling or Lightbringer comics, whoops). However, I was intending to write this more or less anyway, so I hope it's enjoyed even if it doesn't count for the contest!

It was halfway through the 14th century and a leap year. It was always a leap year when Crowley visited. He came on February 29th, on a day that didn’t quite exist, because he needed these weaknesses of his to never exist. If he was going to give in, to give _him_ the very thing he wanted, then it needed to be on a day that didn’t count. 

He didn’t descend to the Pit every leap year, only on the years where the waiting had become unbearable, the years that seemed like nothing mattered at all, so why not. 

Crowley knew why he shouldn’t. He knew every in and out of every argument he’d ever had with himself about Lucifer, and they always sounded so similar to what he’d heard humans say when he tried to tempt them into permanently ridding themselves of family that would terrorize them in their own homes. Except Lucifer couldn’t _do_ anything to him, Crowley would posit to no one but himself. Lucifer was chained up and Crowley knew better than to take him at his words or face value, he _knew better_. So it was fine, wasn’t it? 

This year had been bad, as the last handful of them had been. The 14th century was absolutely shaping up to be the worst yet. The Black Death had visited England and, while his demonic nature meant he wasn’t susceptible to flea bites, it was still horrific. Hell didn’t much care for it either, people dying en masse like this generally meant they attempted to be more pious. When humans were painfully aware of their own mortality, Crowley found there was rarely much for him—or anyone—to collect on.

But there was one place he could go where he could forget all of that, at least for a short time. One place that would make him regret the things he’d done, and the choices he'd made, rather than regret senseless loss he had no hand in. It was easier that way.

So, Crowley descended into the depths of Hell. He walked through gates with _‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here_ ’ writ in molten hellfire across smoked glass; a mockery of the stained glass found in churches. The gates dripped with unknown substances—dark and oily—that Crowley carefully side-stepped so he wouldn’t get any tarry ooze on the hem of his kirtle or his cape. 

Hell was not warm, not to him, not to any of the denizens of if that _liked_ the warmth. It operated with no rhyme nor reason other than causing the maximum amount of misery. And so Hell would always be exactly whatever would make your day as unpleasant as possible. Which meant that Crowley often found the place dreadfully cold and crowded no matter what any other sorts of Demons might say about it. Crowley was always male when he visited Hell, because as much as he liked presenting feminine and taking on whatever aspects of the feminine form that pleased him, Hell wasn't the sort of place that would allow that. Hell wasn't any sort of place for self-expression. 

He brushed past all the other Demons without speaking to them, kept his head down—though he occasionally shoulder-checked anyone who thought they might like to try their hand at someone unlikely to fight back—and kept descending. The Pits were a misnomer—the whole of Hell was technically The Pit, singular. There was not truly a ‘deepest pit of Hell’ no matter what Humans might think. Instead, it was rather like an unending void that spanned ever-downwards, expanding to accommodate more and more damned souls. 

But at the bottom of it, no matter how far down it might be, was a labyrinth of chains. They were forged by Divine Order; made from the firmament itself that had Fallen, along with the rest of the rebel angels, when God had stepped in to end the fight once and for all. The very fabric of Heaven itself had been twisted into massive chains. At the surface, each link was a hulking, malformed thing at least the size of Crowley's human corporation. But if one forced their way into the writhing mass of _living_ chains, they'd see the chains grew finer, thinner, smaller, and _stronger_ until they reached Lucifer. 

He hadn’t been forgotten here, not by the Princes who ruled as his proxies in the 7 realms of deadly sins. They gathered here every decade or so to appraise Lucifer of the goings-on of Hell, and the chains themselves kept Lucifer informed of all the things the Princes didn’t wish to tell him. And while he was chained by the very things Hell was made of, he was still the most dangerous thing in it and Hell certainly knew where its loyalties lay. 

Lucifer was a parasite, Crowley occasionally thought to himself, while he was safe on Earth. He turned the chains that were meant to be divine punishment into his spies and a source of power, even as he slowly broke his bonds link by link, draining the strength from them. Perhaps, one day, Hell would collapse in on itself, who knew, maybe that’s what Armageddon was for. Taking Heaven by storm because Hell would no longer be viable.

Crowley sighed and paused in his downward spiral along the sloped edges of the fourth ring of Hell, Belphegor’s domain, and leaned against the wall. He’d always had second thoughts by the time he reached the fourth ring, Sloth was a particular character flaw of his, so it had always been funny to him, in a peculiar way, that he’d been assigned to the second circle of Gluttony. But it did mean that because of his nature he often lingered here more than he should.

He sighed once more and continued downwards, further and further still. Until it became so dark that even the slits of his pupils opened up wide to overtake the majority of his eyes. Until, eventually, there was no longer even enough light to reflect in his eyes. Once he reached that point he had to banish his shoes and shuffle the rest of the way the same way Humans did in oceans and rivers to warn creatures to move out of their way or be stepped on. He was no viper or pit snake with infrared vision—not that it would help him much in this monotone-temperature wasteland of a void—but he could echolocate through vibrations he created on the path rather than through sound in the air.

"Lucifer." Crowley called, slowly slinking through the dark of the deepest Pit in Hell. The only real pit, if any of the denizens were inclined to be truthful. Lucifer had been the Light-Bringer, the Morning Star; and now was reduced to a black hole singularity stuck in a bottomless gravity well, constantly hungering for the light and swallowing it up before it could reach him. Crowley had always found God's sense of humor to be ironic to the point of being crude, or perhaps cruel in the way only those with unchallengeable power can be.

The sound of chains clinked in a way Crowley would only call dejected, morose perhaps. Slow and bored. 

"Lucifer?" Crowley tried again, just a little louder.

"Crawly." A voice answered him, sounding raw and hoarse with disuse. "What a surprise." 

Crowley winced. Last time he'd at least been called a pleasant surprise; though it seemed each time he visited there was just a little less affection, a few less links in the chains, and a heavier atmosphere slowly pressing down until the weight of it became crushing like unattended guilt.

"Crowley, now." He corrected with a whisper, following the faintest traces of sound and shuffling his feet to find the Lord of Demons himself. For a brief, fearful second, it felt like all the chains that kept Lucifer locked away disappeared. And then a glowing sphere of ionized gas burst forth from the center of the pit on a ledge just below Crowley, lighting up the space with the energy of a planetary nebulae of a dying star. 

The tempter gasped and flung himself back towards the light, his unnecessary heart beating like a hare's at how close he'd been to falling down into the void below. Only a foot away, a ledge he hadn't been able to feel dropped off, a failsafe perhaps to keep Lucifer here if he breached his confines too early for Her _Great Plan_.

"Crowley, then." Lucifer replied. "Come closer." And, as Crowley often was for Lucifer, he was helpless but to obey.

Crowley followed the sound of clinking chains that Lucifer made when he shifted, impatient to his core. Every step was a test, of faith perhaps, that Lucifer wouldn’t allow him to tumble over some unseen edge and fall forever. Crowley had that sort of faith, in Lucifer, in Lucifer’s desire for any sort of diversion from the infinite darkness and the pressures inherent in this space-like pit. Crowley had faith in Lucifer’s selfishness, above all, and in very few things elsewise. 

Crowley tripped and stumbled, and in the half-second before he hit the ground his heart was in his throat and he was afraid he’d never hit anything at all. The barrier that kept Lucifer and the unnatural darkness of the pit contained always felt like this; pushed demons to their hands and knees, from the lowly like himself all the way up to the Princes and the Dukes. 

“Lucifer,” Crowley repeated in barely more than a whisper, looking up from his position towards the glowing chains. They illuminated the planes and cast shadows over the angles of Lucifer’s form, wrapped around him as they were. He’d call them sinister in design if he hadn’t thought She might take offense to that, even here. They held Lucifer’s arms apart and wrapped around his torso and then split to link to cuffs just beneath his knees. Ostensibly they chained the former Morning Star’s wings as well in whatever plane they happened to exist, though Crowley hadn’t ever gotten a good look at if that was true or not. 

The chains were beautiful in a way that made Crowley sick from looking at them, the sort of perfection creatures like Demons had a hard time gazing upon; a pristine white-gold that shone faintly with a glow that made the Earth Agent think of bioluminescent lichen in the deepest caves. The awe kept him on his knees even as he pushed himself up to sit on his heels, like a devotee of a vengeful god restrained. Perhaps it was a little too accurate.

“Crowley, come _here_.” And there was the pull in Lucifer’s voice that had always been there, or had at least felt like it had always been there. The true Original Tempter, no matter what humanity thought of Crowley; both the carrot and the stick at once. So, Crowley stood shakily and walked forward until he was only a foot away from the first Fallen. 

“Yes, Lucifer?” Crowley turned his gaze downward. his stomach churned with disgust and anger and helplessness combined, and directed at himself more than anything. He hated that he came back, that he couldn’t just _quit_ Lucifer. It made him nearly retch some nights when he was alone, that no matter how much he tried to stay away he’d eventually need his next hit of the Father of Lies. He never felt so pathetic, so powerful, as he did in Lucifer’s grasp.

“Why are you here?” Lucifer asked, his voice soft and charming and all too bemused. Exactly like he had the last time Crowley had come to visit, as if it hadn't been nearly four-hundred years since then. 

"You know why," Crowley murmured, daring to look up with a glare, desperate for any illusion of control he might have here, the illusion of the rope to hang himself by Lucifer magnanimously gave him.

"Perhaps," Lucifer murmured, "But I want to hear it from you, _starmaker_."

Crowley winced at the pet name and gritted his teeth before pushing himself to stand. They weren't affected by the heaviness of the unnatural gravity inside this shielded area and the crushing darkness wasn't as absolute inside of it either. But he'd traded that weight for another that felt like being yoked alone to pull a plow, like he was trapped just as surely as Lucifer was, or perhaps even more so for all that he didn't look like he was chained. 

"You," Crowley rasped after a few minutes of fighting against himself. Just like always. "I'm here for you."

"To free me?" Lucifer asked with a drawl, low and sultry, and made Crowley think of apples and offers. This too was part of their script, and Crowley could never seem to deviate.

"No," Crowley murmured in reply, stepping closer and reaching for the chains that connected to the cuffs on Lucifer's legs. He pulled at them just enough to make room for his hips between thighs and turned his gaze up to meet Lucifer's. 

"Then what?" Lucifer hummed in false query even as he wrapped his legs around Crowley's waist and pulled him closer until the only thing between them was Crowley's clothing and his chains. "If you're not here to free me and let me leave this God-forsaken place, then what do you _want,_ Crowley?"

Crowley swallowed heavily and let his forehead fall to Lucifer's chest, composing himself as best he could. "To forget. Wipe the slate clean. To press out the impressions of feelings from clay tablets." His voice shook and his body trembled. Crowley knew that Lucifer was smiling in that smug, pleased way of his he got when the inevitable happened and those he'd captured the hearts and fancies of came crawling back. Just as they always did.

"My poor, little light," Lucifer crooned, chains clinking as he lowered his hands to alight gently on Crowley's shoulders, hands tangling in long red hair and curling into fists. With a sharp tug, Lucifer forced Crowley to look at him, to gaze up over the rims of his glasses.

"You truly are so fragile," he continued, loosening his grip and petting Crowley's hair like a beloved dog. His whispers insidious and filling Crowley's head, leaking like water through all the cracks in his defenses. Just like it had since the beginning. Crowley might be the Original Tempter of humanity, but Lucifer had pioneered that title, taking one-third of the angels with him when he Fell. "You've done so well _up there_ , just as you've been told. I'm so _proud_ of the trouble you've caused, all the wrenches in the Plan you've thrown.

"I'm–" Crowley attempted to argue, he wasn't _fragile_ just… something.

"Shh, my dear starlight," Lucifer placed one of his palms on the back of Crowley's neck and wrapped his fingers around the sides. Because, no matter their positions, it wasn't Crowley who was in charge here, and it never would be. "What do you have for me under these robes, hm?" 

Crowley closed his eyes and sighed, "Ballocks 'n pin. Could be a proper quaint, 'f needed." 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the slang but pulled Crowley closer with his thighs to feel for himself rather than ask for an explanation. The hardness beneath the dress pressed up against Lucifer and he licked his lips, "No need, starlight. This will do just fine."

Nodding, Crowley slid his hands up Lucifer's thighs and pulled down to move the chains situating the demon in a way that would be more comfortable for Crowley, before angling his head up to take Lucifer's lips into a heated kiss. He moaned low in his throat when Lucifer gripped tightly at the back of his neck and fisted his free hand in Crowley's hair, moving his head to position him exactly as he liked. Skillfully Lucifer played Crowley like a fiddle with his tongue and mouth, pulling breathy groans and keening whines from him.

They kissed like they always did, filthy and lustful and as a prelude all its own to fucking. After a few minutes, Lucifer yanked back on Crowley's hair until he had to arch his back, lest the force break something and the archdemon pulled with his legs to force Crowley to grind up against him. He caught Crowley's eyes and smirked at him, utterly wickedly, and quirked an eyebrow. Lucifer _could_ do plenty of miracles as he liked, even in these chains, but he much preferred to cause others to do it for him as a show of devotion, among other things.

Taking the hint easily enough, Crowley slicked his fingers with oil from a vial hanging from the girdle at his waist and pressed his hand up beneath the black cloth tied at the demon Prince's waist. Long fingers fluttered lightly over the ring of muscle there. Angels and demons didn't technically need it, but Lucifer hadn't ever been the sort to think such excesses were better left alone. Especially not if it meant the possibility of _pleasure_. He growled and bit at Crowley's lower lip, pulling him into another kiss, stealing the breath from his lungs with the inferno raging between them, a tornado of fire that would suck the life out of him and leave Crowley a burnt shell if he let it. 

Crowley let it. 

That's what he was here for, after all, to be burnt and emptied and punished for all the things he wanted and took and shouldn't have. Crowley focused on the sensations, it was best that way. Lucifer had too much of a hold on him, it wouldn't do to give him even more. So he kept his body and his mind apart as best he could, even as he was rent to pieces, even as his soul shattered before he scrounged it up and reshaped it into something almost presentable, he wouldn't give Lucifer that satisfaction.

His fingers curled inside Lucifer, slick and searching until the Prince of Pride arched his back, a languid moan falling from his lips and crashing around Crowley. Adding in a third, Crowley opened him up and did his best to turn the King of Hell insensate with pleasure. Maybe then he'd shut up and refrain from flaying Crowley bare with his words for once.

"My starlight," Lucifer moaned, the smirk audible in his voice, the possessive _my_ ringing out in the darkness around them and pulling an answering groan from Crowley. _It wasn't that he needed to be possessed,_ Crowley told himself, _it was only that the belonging of it was worth it._ Crowley pulled his fingers from Lucifer, yanked his girdle to the side so the purse on it hung at his hip, and rucked up the skirts of his kirtle and chemise.

Crowley growled and closed his eyes even as Lucifer kneaded at the muscles along the base of his neck, amusing himself by forcing Crowley to turn his head this way and that and exerting his control over him. Lucifer chuckled in that way that Crowley _hated_ and so Crowley snapped his hips up and pulled Lucifer's down to meet his in a single, bruising motion—pleased to hear Lucifer choke on his laughter with a moan. Crowley's face was pressed against Lucifer's chest and the chains over it dug into Crowley's cheeks but gave him more leverage than he had before.

The hand on the back of his neck was warm and the thighs wrapped around his hips were like steel beams, trembling when he hit someplace _just right_ with his thrusts and dug his nails into the skin beneath his hands. If he let himself float far enough away, he could pretend this wasn't Lucifer, that the hands on his neck and in his hair weren't to prove the dominion they had over him, and that he had any say at all in how this proceeded.

"What was it this time?" Lucifer demanded, dragging Crowley's head up to cover his lips in a bruising kiss with sharp teeth and prodding tongue. Crowley whined and pulled back with an obscenely lewd, wet smack and a thin trail of saliva broke between them when Lucifer licked his lips with a smile. Crowley growled again low in his throat and bit back an "I hate you" from leaving his lips, even if the smugness radiating off Lucifer meant he could feel the sentiment anyway. 

Crowley leaned down and laved his split tongue over Lucifer's nipple, still using his hands curled into claws on the archdemon's hips to move Lucifer in time with his thrusts. They'd never been a soft, sweet thing. Not since Heaven, and Crowley didn't like to think of that time much anymore. 

Lucifer groaned and gripped tightly at Crowley's hair, about to pull him back again, and the redhead quickly exchanged his tongue for his teeth and bit sharply at Lucifer's pec. Lucifer's hips bucked at the pain mixed with pleasure and he growled back, terrifying in a way that made Crowley want to instinctively fall to his knees and bare his throat, to supplicate himself before something so much more powerful than him. He didn't, he wouldn't, let Lucifer force him into that position, not _now,_ but it took all of his presence of mind not to sink down before the Prince of Pride. 

Crowley hated how the fear grounded him in his body, kept all the pleasurable sensations this corporation of his felt firmly tied to the physical plane instead of letting him drift off and wallow like he wanted to. He was the one fucking Lucifer, he _should_ have all the power here, Crowley scrabbled desperately at Lucifer's hips and moaned when Lucifer moved his hand from the back of his neck to his throat to squeeze at the same time Crowley felt skin give beneath his sharp nails and ichor wet underneath his fingers. 

Crowley choked and pressed harder into Lucifer's hand on his throat, cutting off his own airway and uncaring if his corporation was hurt beyond that. He forced one of his hands, coated in dark blood, to unclench from its spot on Lucifer's hip and wrap around his cock. His hips bucked up to chase the friction given by Crowley's hand and even as he jerked Crowley's head to the side, baring his neck. 

"Please," Lucifer moaned, voice soft and light and if he wasn't who he was, it might have tricked Crowley into thinking he meant something sweet and gentle, as if there was love in this. As if there had ever been anything of Lucifer's love in this. But Crowley was a wretch of a soul and he'd take anything he could get.

"Lucifer," Crowley cried out, snapping his hips up and tightening his grip on the Lord of Lie's cock, moving in time with every pump of his hips and making sure his cockhead dragged over the nerves inside Lucifer at the same time he thumbed along the bottom of the glans of Lucifer's cock. With a loud shout, Lucifer dipped his head to bite into Crowley's bared throat, drawing blood and leaving a toothy mark just over his jugular as he spilled his essence between them and over Crowley's hand. 

The sudden pain and Lucifer clenching around him made Crowley's thrusts stutter as he came with a wordless keen, high and reedy. He hiccoughed a sob to bite it back and felt disgustingly present in his body and terribly complicit in his own upset. 

"This–" Crowley panted, voice low and mournful, "This can't happen again." Lucifer huffed a wordless laugh and ran his fingers through Crowley's hair, sweaty from where he'd had it tangled in his hand earlier and uncaring of Crowley's wincing whenever his fingers hit a knot.

"Of course…" Lucifer murmured. And for a moment only breath neither of them needed was between them, and then Crowley shifted to step back. The archdemon's hand shot out and he wrapped it underneath Crowley's jaw, his palm flat against Crowley's throat and dug his thumb and forefinger into the artery and vein just under the jawbone on either side of his neck.

"You know that one day I will get out of here. And when I do, I'll come after you." A statement of fact, nothing more, nothing less. And Crowley's soul _burned_ with the truth of it until he was a gasping, empty, broken vessel.

Crowley stumbled back and his skirts made a heavy sound when they fell to his feet when Lucifer let him go. He rubbed at his throat and coughed, looking up to glare at the King of Hell, feeling like an ant in front of a great boot. 

"I'll be waiting." And with that, their dance was done, their script completed. And Crowley was left with the feeling of a broken egg falling down his spine, dripping and oozing and altogether disgusting. 

Fuck he hated the 14th century A.D.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Thank you so much Nixarim for the sketch!  
> 
> 
> Crowley, on his way back, gets trapped in Sloth for like a decade for a nap. To be fair, he deserves it.
> 
> The rings of Hell are as follows, from top to bottom, with the Princes associated with them:  
> 1\. Asmodeus: Lust  
> 2\. Beelzebub: Gluttony  
> 3\. Mammon: Greed  
> 4\. Belphegor: Sloth  
> 5\. Satan: Wrath  
> 6\. Leviathan: Envy  
> 7\. Lucifer: Pride
> 
> Since Satan is considered separate from Lucifer in most hierarchies, I have not referred to Lucifer as Satan, and figure that swearing by the Prince of Wrath's name is probably pretty apt for demons. Wouldn't be too surprised if demons swore and cursed with all their names tbh.
> 
> If you're looking for more Lucifer/Crowley please go read Nixarim's [Before the Falling](https://nixarim.tumblr.com/tagged/Good-Omens-Before-The-Falling/chrono)!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>
> 
> All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message! I also take graphic/banner/emoji requests and writing prompts/requests.


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